


Trans Snape Week 2020

by masaothedog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masaothedog/pseuds/masaothedog
Summary: For the Trans Snape Week event hosted by snapeloveposts on Tumblr!All of my entries are compliant with my depiction of Snape in Dastardly Lemondrops, where he is nonbinary.
Comments: 37
Kudos: 79





	1. reflection

The mattress in his childhood bedroom had never bothered him before he went to Hogwarts. He’d been used to it, and he’d never slept on anything more comfortable. Now every summer, the bed he’d known since childhood felt worse than it had the summer before. 

He’d just spend his fourth year at Hogwarts, and now Severus woke up on the first morning of summer groggy and sore. He sat up on the bed, pushing his long hair, which he hoped his father wouldn’t chop off again, behind his newly pierced ears. 

_These’ll give Dad a reason to let me keep it long_ , he thought with a smirk. Provided he didn’t pull his earrings out. Severus could already imagine the man’s reaction. Tobias would likely scream at him in every language he knew. 

After a moment, Severus stood up, stretching his arms above his head, hearing his aching back pop. He wondered if sleeping on the floor might even be more comfortable--at least it didn’t have metal springs that poked him in the back. 

Perhaps washing his face would help him wake up, he thought. He shuffled to the bathroom, averting his eyes from the mirror as he did. He hated looking at himself in the mirror. It was hard for him to put his finger one why. Most of his peers might assume it was because he was ugly, but he didn’t really think he was. He resembled his mother quite a bit, and he liked that. It wasn’t his big nose or his lanky hair that he hated. 

He sneered at the reflection of his greying white t-shirt in the mirror as he turned on the faucet. The water sputtered before it flowed. He put his hands beneath the flow and cupped them to gather some water. There was still some chipped black nail polish on his fingernails, but hopefully he could pass it off as bits of some potion ingredient or another. He splashed his face with the water a few times before drying off with a threadbare towel that hung next to the sink. 

He moved to pick up his toothbrush but froze. Something was wrong. He forced himself to look in the mirror, but his eyesight wasn’t that great. He squinted and brought his face closer to the cracked, dusty mirror. His stomach tightened and he felt sick. He drew back from the mirror in revulsion. Surely he didn’t see what he thought he saw. 

Breathing in short, panicked breaths, he tried to steady his trembling hand to bring up to his chin. There it was. A single stiff black hair. He slowly slid down the bathroom wall, sitting on the floor and putting his face in his hands. Only… he could feel the awful thing when he did that, so he shifted his hands to his forehead. His breaths got faster and more shallow until he was having trouble catching his breath, and tears rolled down his cheeks. 

_This can’t be happening_ , he repeated again and again in his head. Only… of course it was happening. Rationally, he’d known it would happen sooner or later, but he always pushed it out of his head, hoping against hope that maybe it just wouldn’t. It had been easier to deny it. Until he couldn’t. All he could do was sob. 

‘What on earth is the matter?’ Eileen hissed as she came into the small bathroom, closing the door behind her. Severus looked up in surprise, tears streaming down his face. Had he been loud enough to get his mother’s attention? Had his father already left for work? 

‘N-nothing,’ he said, wiping his tears and trying to pull himself together. Eileen knelt beside him, her expression unreadable as usual. 

‘This doesn’t look like nothing, does it,’ she said in her smooth, deliberate voice. Severus did everything he could to emulate her voice. That effort had been ruined a bit when his voice had started cracking that year. Now he spoke in a near whisper. The Welsh accent and deliberate pronunciation were the only things that made them sound similar anymore. 

‘It’s really… nothing,’ he said sniffling and trying to contain his sobs. Eileen cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. She furrowed her brow and looked into his eyes intensely. He had a hard time keeping things from her when she looked at him like that. 

‘It’s just… a hair,’ he admitted, feeling very self conscious about getting so upset about it. Eileen raised one eyebrow without moving any other muscle in her face. 

‘A hair?’ she asked, demanding clarification. Severus swallowed hard before putting his hand to his chin where the offending hair was. 

‘Here,’ he said, ‘And… surely there will be more!’ 

Eileen sighed and let go of his face. She looked at him for a while longer as if there was something she couldn’t quite figure out about the situation. Like he was a puzzle she couldn’t solve. Severus often felt the same way about himself. She shook her head. 

‘Severus,’ she started. His chest tightened. He recognised disappointment in her voice. He didn’t think she felt the same way about his eccentricities as his father did, but what if she did? He’d let his guard down with her so many times. She continued. ‘You are adept with potions, are you not?’ Severus blinked, confused. 

‘Y-yes?’ he said as softly as he could. 

‘Then you should be well aware of the Hair Never More potion. Perhaps the other students won’t learn it until their seventh year, but I expect more from you,’ she said sternly. Severus looked at her, shocked. _That_ was why she was disappointed in him? 

‘I… I didn’t know, I’m sorry,’ he said, chewing on his lip. 

‘Get dressed and be downstairs in ten minutes. Your father’s gone, so I can teach you in the kitchen. Honestly. I expect more from you when it comes to potions, you know,’ she said before turning around and walking out of the bathroom. Severus thought he saw her smile briefly, but then he knew his eyesight wasn’t so good.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50609463543/in/dateposted-public/)


	2. shopping

Severus had spent the first few months of his sixth year tutoring students in potions for money. It wasn’t that he liked teaching. He hated it, but he was desperate for new clothes. He never wanted to wear his father’s hand-me-downs again. 

It wasn’t just what the Marauders had done. He hated even looking at himself out of his school uniform, and truly he didn’t much care for that, either. Something about trousers just felt very wrong to him. And a dress shirt? A necktie? It was all so very wrong. 

He’d done what he could to make it more  _ him _ . He’d convinced Mulciber to pierce his ears for him in fourth year, he’d wear any jewellery his mother didn’t want anymore, he’d paint his nails, but it still wasn’t quite right. 

By the time the first Hogsmeade weekend of December came around, he’d saved up quite a bit of money. So much that he felt almost wasteful using it on clothes rather than things for potions, but he couldn’t stand to wear those hand-me-downs anymore. 

He usually didn’t go to Hogsmeade. He didn’t really have friends anymore, and he had never had money for sweets or anything like that before. Now he had a mission. That Saturday morning, he boarded a carriage with three Hufflepuffs that he didn’t really know. He kept quiet as the three happily chatted. He wore his school cloak over his oldest, most worn clothes. 

Once the carriage stopped, he slipped out quickly. Between his small stature and quiet nature, the Hufflepuffs had barely ever noticed him. He quickly made his way to Madame Malkin’s, casting quick glances over his shoulders to be sure that no one followed him. He was particularly watchful for Potter and his friends. He was relieved to see them walking into Honeydukes. 

Once Severus entered Madame Malkin’s, he slipped surreptitiously into an aisle. His meagre height often played to his advantage when he wanted to be stealthy, and now was no exception. He was so caught up in assuring he couldn’t be seen from outside of the shop or from the entrance, though, that he wasn’t paying attention to where he was in the shop. Once he felt comfortable he wouldn’t be spotted by anyone, he looked to find that he was in the womens’ section. 

_ This is what you wanted all along, though. Now you can’t tiptoe around it and deny it to yourself _ , he thought. He was very self conscious about actually being there, though. Surely anything he picked out would become an object of ridicule for the Marauders. 

_ They’re going to mock me no matter what I wear. I might as well look nice in something I actually want to be wearing _ . But was it worth it? Wouldn’t he just be drawing attention to himself? Everything in the shop seemed to be lacy or poofy, and he felt it would make him look rather conspicuous. Disappointment started to creep into his mind. He just knew he’d be too chicken shit to actually get what he really wanted. He was a coward. He started to shuffle out of the aisle when his eye landed on something familiar. 

It was something that you might call a dress, but it wasn’t particularly form fitting. Actually, it was more like a tunic, and it was just like the kind of thing his mother wore before his family had moved to Cokeworth when he was seven. His father had made her cut up all of her clothes from the magical world to use as rags. He didn’t want his coworkers to think they were a family of freaks. 

He looked at it longingly. It was a deep reddish purple with black trim at the neck, sleeves, and bottom hem. Even the colours were perfect. He reached forward touching it with only his fingertips. The fabric was light and soft. His heart ached for it as soon as he touched it. Could he really have it? He clenched his hands into fists. He felt like he should stop himself from getting it. It was just too nice, and he liked it too much. He couldn’t possibly be allowed to own something that felt so very right. 

He glanced around furtively to make sure no one was looking, but when he did, he saw that there was actually another very similar tunic dress near the first one. This one was longer, and it was deep green with a matte gold trim. They were both perfect. He checked the prices, gasping at how inexpensive they both were. He could actually afford both and still have plenty of money left over. He grabbed them in the right size and put them over his arm. 

Recalling that his mother wore these with leggings or long stockings, he looked around for something like that. It was then that he found himself in the underwear section. His heart started to pound, and he felt lightheaded with fear. If a shop attendant saw him, they’d surely think he was some kind of pervert. 

Swallowing hard, he grabbed some pairs of black leggings. Nearby there were some very plain pairs of brief cut pants. He wanted to leave, but he thought of his dad’s greying old pants. How very horrible he felt wearing them. Would the cashier think he was disgusting if he bought womens’ pants? Would they even fit him right? 

With his pulse pounding so hard in his ears he could barely hear, he grabbed a few black ones that seemed to be his size and walked to the front of the store. His legs shook so hard, he thought he might fall down. And then he saw them. 

Black Victorian boots with three inch heels. They had black lace panels on the sides and neat little rows of buttons up the front. He thought of wearing his new clothes with his ill-fitting worn shoes that had been his dad’s. They were too big for him and hideous. These… these were probably much too expensive. He checked the price, and his heart sank. If he wanted them, he’d have to put something else back. He took a long, hard look at everything he had. 

‘Tough choice?’ 

Severus dropped everything in his arms and turned around in a panic. It was Madame Malkin herself. He started muttering apologies and scrambled to pick everything up. 

‘How short are you?’ she asked, bending down to help him. He looked at her confused. Her words barely registered in his fear-stricken mind. 

‘On money, I mean. I can see how short you are,’ she said with a laugh and a warm smile. She seemed to be trying to put him at ease. She wasn’t completely freaked out by the pants he was picking up. 

‘Uh… uh, well I would need four more galleons,’ he said in his whisper voice. He was still doing whatever he could to keep the resonance out of his voice, despite it not being a particularly deep voice even after it had finished changing. 

‘That’s all? four galleons?’ Madame Malkin asked. Snape nodded. To him, four galleons was quite a bit of money. 

‘Well I can’t very well let you go wearing my designs with those horrible shoes, dear. What size are you?’ 

‘Well, five and a half in men’s, but,’ he started, and Madame Malkin grabbed a box before he could finish. She ushered him to the register. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50617477526/in/dateposted-public/)

‘I don’t sell a lot of petite clothes these days, anyway. Most of the girls your age are wearing muggle fashion these days. I don’t mind knocking off a few galleons for you, dear,’ she said as she rang him up. He couldn’t believe it. 

‘Are you sure? I could probably pay you back in a few weeks,’ he said as he handed her what money he had. ‘I really don’t want to be any trouble…’ 

‘It’s no trouble at all,’ she said with a smile. The wrinkles on her face indicated that she smiled quite a lot. ‘Besides. Once, very long ago, I was in your position, and I didn’t have any nice old ladies to help me.’ Severus tilted his head and watched her as she packed up his new clothes and shoes. What did she mean by that? 

She handed him a bag and put one galleon back in his hand. He looked at her puzzled. 

‘I can’t take this,’ he protested. 

‘You won’t have any money for sweets otherwise. Go on, take it. And I hope I’ll see you in here again some time.’ 

He walked out in a daze after shrinking his new things and putting them in his pocket. He felt like it would be an insult to Madame Malkin’s generosity if he didn’t go to Honeyduke’s. He only hoped by that time, Potter and his friends would have moved on. 

What had she meant when she said she’d been in his position? Surely she must have just meant that she had been short on money once. That must have been it. But there was something about the way she’d said it and the way she’d looked at him. Could it be possible? 

If it were, she must think Severus wanted to be a woman. He didn’t, though. At least, he was pretty sure he didn’t. On the other hand, the thought of growing into a man didn’t seem right, either. Neither seemed to fit him exactly. Just like dress shirts and neckties didn’t fit him, but neither did dresses with puffed sleeves cinched around the waist. He was something else, something he couldn’t name exactly, and that was a scary thought to him. 

He liked things to be neat and orderly, from potions ingredients and notes to who he was as a person. He was relieved at how uncomplicated his sexuality turned out to be. Never had he doubted or wondered. He knew he was homosexual, and that was very simple and straightforward. The only thing that complicated it at all was the messy question of what it meant that he didn’t think of himself as exactly a boy or man. More like he was adjacent to those things, but just slightly to the left of them. 

He didn’t like that there wasn’t a neat little box for his gender to fit in, like the neat little boxes Madame Malkin had packaged for him minutes before. He didn’t like that he couldn’t put a name to it. It had been easier to just push the question away and write off his feminine expression as a quirk of his gayness, but it was getting harder for him to ignore. He was tired of pretending. 


	3. hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, there is reference to (amab) mpreg in this chapter and menstruation. If that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you don't read this. If that's cool with you, enjoy :3

’Your hair is getting kinda long, Sev,’ Lily said as they met up to walk to class together. It was the first morning after winter break in their first year. Severus hadn’t gone back home. 

Indeed, Severus’ hair had gotten a bit shaggy. It hung in his face, but it wasn’t long enough yet for him to put it behind his ears. 

‘Aren’t you going to get it cut?’ 

‘No way!’ he said. ‘Wizards get to have long hair. There’s no way I’m cutting mine! I’m going to let it grow out.’ 

‘I don’t think that would suit you,’ Lily said with a sceptical look. ‘You don’t have very nice hair.’ 

Severus stopped in shock, feeling hurt and self conscious. 

‘Are you coming? Class is going to start!’ Lily said, looking back over her shoulder. 

_ That’s just how she talks sometimes. Don’t get overly sensitive about it _ , Severus told himself. Besides, she was his best friend in the world and he loved her dearly. He wasn’t about to start a fight with her. 

‘Coming!’ he said, shuffling to catch up with her. 

‘I can’t believe we actually have to learn about  _ reproduction  _ today. How mortifying,’ she said. 

‘Wait, what!?’ Severus asked, feeling adequately mortified. 

‘You didn’t know? Yeah, after lunch today, the boys and girls have to split up so they can talk to us about… you know. Isn’t that just the worst?’ Lily said, shuddering. Severus felt cold panic rising in him. He hated anything in school that required students to be divided by sex. It always filled him with a dread he didn’t quite understand, even when he’d been in primary school. He wasn’t like the other boys, and they all seemed to know it. He just knew he’d get some mocking comment like, ‘Shouldn’t you be with the girls, Snivellus?’, all while wishing he could be. 

All that and being talked to about  _ sex  _ on top of it? He couldn’t imagine anything worse. He wished his hair were already long. So long he could hide behind it like a curtain. He spent the rest of the morning unable to pay attention to anything in class, feeling sick dread. 

At least there was one small mercy. The Slytherin boys and the Hufflepuff boys were grouped together with Slughorn while the Gryffindor boys would join the Ravenclaw boys to hear from Flitwick. At least he would be nowhere near Potter and his horrible friends. Still, even being around the Slytherin boys was a nightmare. Worse, in some ways, since they knew that he refused to shower until they were all done and out of the bathroom, and he would always change clothes either in a toilet stall or in bed with the curtains closed. 

At first, Severus paid very little attention, assuming most of what he heard wouldn’t really be relevant to him. At almost 12, he already knew he wasn’t interested in girls, and he very much doubted Slughorn would be talking about anything other than heterosexuality. He was, of course, wrong. In fact, as soon as Slughorn started talking about sexual diversity, he got some charts out. Severus got lightheaded and glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him. Of course they were. Avery was smirking at him and shaking with suppressed laughter. Severus hung his head so that his shaggy bangs fell in his face. 

It was a strange balance between feeling like he was being eaten alive by embarrassment and trying to learn what he could about homosexuality, all while trying not to  _ look _ interested. That balance shattered when Slughorn said, ‘And something around a third of homosexual wizards have the ability to become pregnant.’ Severus’ eyes widened and his head shot up. Fortunately, several other children who were not pureblood were also visibly shocked. 

‘No one is sure why, but legend has it that magical folks in the time of the founders were worried that not enough magical children were being born and wove a spell into the bloodlines of wizarding families to allow for male pregnancy,’ Slughorn explained. ‘Indeed, it seems to be more common in wizards with at least one magical parent.’ He went on to explain that such wizards actually had a monthly fertility cycle which would result in the body transfiguring a small opening once a month to allow for menstruation. 

Severus could have screamed. Why had his mother never warned him of this? Perhaps she didn’t believe it might happen for him. With his luck, it probably would. He sighed deeply. He realised with horror that the idea of it  _ not  _ happening for him was more frightening to him. 

\---

By summer, his hair had grown past his chin. It was an awkward length. Though it was just long enough to tie back, it didn’t look very good like that yet. He wished he had a hair clip, but any time he asked Lily if he could borrow one, she scoffed and said it would make him look like a girl. When he said he wouldn’t mind that, she got angry with him and told him he should care more about what other people thought of him. 

None of that mattered, though. When his parents picked him up from the station, his father was furious at his appearance. 

‘What’s this?’ he demanded, tugging at Severus’ hair as Eileen tensed and looked at the ground. ‘You look like girl, Severus!’ His father’s command of English always weakened when he got angry. He had immigrated to England as a boy, but he still spoke mostly Slovak and sometimes Yiddish until he started working. When they got home, Tobias cut Severus’ hair shorter than it had ever been in his life. It was only a few centimeters long. When Severus saw himself in the bathroom window, he burst into tears, and he didn’t stop crying until he fell asleep. 

Later, he awoke to his mother stroking his closely shorn hair. That only reminded him that it was gone and tears welled up in his eyes again. His breaths started to turn into sobs. 

‘Shh, it’s still late,’ his mother whispered. ‘Your father is sleeping.’ Severus swallowed his tears and did his best to contain himself. He didn’t have an easy time suppressing his emotioned, even when he had to, and that had gotten him into trouble many times. 

‘Why does he hate me so much,’ he whispered. Eileen sighed softly and continued stroking his hair. 

‘He doesn’t, my love. He just doesn’t understand you,’ she said. Severus sniffed and moved to sit up and face his mother. She had long black hair, down to the middle of her back. He burned with jealousy. 

‘Do you understand me?’ he asked, looking up into her eyes nervously. She thinned her lips in an indistinguishable expression. Severus could rarely tell when he upset his mother. She was often a mystery to him. 

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But I’d like to understand you.’ She smiled at him. Her smiles were always tight, as if she was holding back. Or as if something was holding her back. Severus breathed deeply and hot tears fell silently over his cheeks. 

‘I can’t be what Dad wants me to be,’ he admitted. He was afraid that somehow those words would reveal too much to his mother. At the same time, he hoped they would. 

‘I know,’ she said and took him into her arms. It took everything he had not to start sobbing again. 

\---

A week later, Severus went to go see his father’s parents in Suffolk. As much as he and his father didn’t get along, Severus loved his grandparents. They were very kind to him and took no issue with his magic or his femininity. Being with them was always a respite for him. Unlike his father, they had never legally changed their last name to Snape. They’d long given up on going by it after deciding it was ridiculous to go by the name of the town they lived in. Anyway, no one was likely to mistake them for English, so they were still Pavol and Ružena Snajder. 

His bubbe gasped when he walked through the door of their modest cottage. She ran to him and grasped his face in her hands. She was a short woman. Everyone in his family was short, but she was not even five feet, so he was even a little taller than her at 12. 

‘What has happened to your hair, Sevele?’ she asked in Yiddish. Severus could understand it better than he could speak it, but he did his best with his grandparents. It was easier for him than Slovak, anyway. 

‘Dad cut it,’ he answered, hanging his head. He hated the way he looked. ‘I grew it out at school, and he didn’t approve.’ She tutted and walked out of the room, leaving Severus alone and confused. 

‘My son is a schmuck,’ she said as she walked back into the room carrying a large black kerchief with a pattern of colourful, stylised flowers. She tied it around Severus’ head in the same style she wore the kerchief on her own head. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. 

‘That’s what I like to see,’ his bubbe said. ‘A big smile from my beautiful grandson.’  


[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50645197718/in/dateposted-public/)

\---

It was a nice week for Severus. His bubbe let him help her cook and bake every day and his zayde told him stories about living in Bratislava. He even taught him a little basic krav maga, which Severus thought would be very useful when it came to self defense against the marauders. 

He hated that he had to go back to Cokeworth that weekend. His parents would come during the day Friday to have dinner with him and his grandparents and then they’d drive back home on Saturday. Severus would have to hide the kerchief his bubbe had given him if he wanted to keep it. 

That Friday morning as Severus was helping his bubbe braid the challah dough, he was stricken with a sharp pain low in his abdomen. He braced himself against the counter and doubled over. Worried, his bubbe put her hands on his shoulders. 

‘My word, what’s wrong?’ she asked. Severus winced as he straightened up. 

‘Just my stomach,’ he said. He excused himself to go to the bathroom only to find he really didn’t need to go. The pain remained, but it wasn’t so bad. 

\---

Eileen always seemed a little bored around Tobias’ parents. They liked her very much, perhaps more than their own son, but they spoke very little English. She sat between Severus and Tobias at the table for dinner. Severus just picked at his food. It was delicious, but he still didn’t feel well. He barely listened as his father talked to his grandparents. 

‘Severus, you look pale. Are you all right?’ his mum whispered. He just shook his head and leaned against her. He got up to go to the bathroom again, feeling like he might be sick if he had to be around food any longer. 

In the bathroom, he just sat on the floor, leaning against the cool tile wall, gripping his stomach. This wasn’t how he usually felt when he had a stomach virus or ate something off. It was a churning pain, and something felt off in a way he couldn’t describe. Sighing, he figured he might as well try to go again, but when he pulled down his trousers and pants, he froze in fear. There was blood in his pants. 

For a terrifying moment, he thought he must have injured himself internally, but then that day during his first year came back to him. When he realised what was happening, he felt a confusing mix of emotions. Relief, shame, and dread were the strongest. 

Was this why he was the way he was? Was this why he didn’t quite feel like a boy, because all along, his body knew it was going to have this capability? He wondered if others in his situation felt the same way, like they lived in a space outside of gender. All his life, he’d felt locked out of the worlds of both boy and girl. Even if this didn’t explain why, it certainly gave him the permission he needed to be okay with that about himself. 

Now he had bigger problems. What would he do if his father found out? How would he hide it from him? Thinking quickly, he folded up quite a bit of toilet paper and stuck it into his underwear. It was only a temporary solution, but it was all he could think to do in the moment. He was still getting dressed when he heard a knock on the bathroom door. 

‘Severus? Are you all right in there?’ she asked. He couldn’t tell his father, but could he tell her? She was the only other magical person in the house and the only one who might understand and be able to help. He pulled up his trousers and cracked the door. 

‘Um, not exactly,’ he said, his heart pounding in fear. Eileen looked confused. 

‘You’re ill?’ she asked. 

‘Not exactly,’ he said, his voice trembling. He opened the door wider and backed up indicating that she should come in, which she did. Severus hung his head, terrified to actually tell her. ‘I’m um… bleeding.’ 

At first Eileen looked very worried, but after a moment, it clicked for her what he meant. She smiled one of her tight smiles. 

‘I thought this might be coming,’ she said. Severus looked up at her in surprise. 

‘It runs in our family, I think,’ she explained. ‘I’ll go to the shop around the corner after dinner. Why don’t you go lie down until then? I’ll tell everyone you’ve got a funny tummy.’ 

\---

They didn’t really talk about it again for the rest of the night, except for Eileen to stealthily bring some pads to Severus. It wasn’t easy to do without notice. Now that Eileen and Tobias were staying in the guestroom, Severus was sleeping on the sofa for the night. 

‘You’re lucky. A few years ago, you’d need to use a belt with these,’ Eileen whispered before returning to the guestroom. 

\---

A few days later, after they’d returned to Cokeworth, Eileen took Severus out to the park so they could talk properly. Of course they talked about the fundamentals, but then, as they sat on a bench watching some pigeons, Eileen pulled out a strange light purple crystal out of her blouse that hung from a leather necklace. It looked like amethyst, but more vibrant and a little closer to magenta. It fit in the palm of Eileen’s hand and was cut in a diamond shape. 

‘Do you remember this, my love?’ she asked. Severus furrowed his brow and reached out to touch it. He withdrew his hand quickly as he was surprised to feel magic flowing through it. He thought it looked vaguely familiar. He remembered it glowing and that making him very happy. 

‘I think I sort of do,’ he said, staring at it. 

‘It’s a magical conduit. Like a wand, only not just any magical person can use it. You see, there’s a sort of magic that members of the Prince family can do, and probably some other Welsh witches, that most can’t. Even in our family, most wizards can’t do it--usually just the witches. I think you might be able to, though.’ 

Severus looked up into her eyes, hopeful. The idea of being able to do a special kind of magic, unique to their family, was rather exciting to him. And the fact that it was the sort of magic that most men couldn’t do would further validate his wish to live outside the world of binary gender.  _ If  _ he could do it. 

‘Will you teach me? How do you do it?’ he asked eagerly. Eileen smiled, and it seemed less tight that it usually did. 

‘I will. In fact, I already have started. You are a very good singer, aren’t you?’ she asked. She’d taught him to sing with her since he was a baby. He suddenly remembered very clearly being held in his mother’s arms as she sat in the waters of the river Severn on a hot summer day. The water was still icy cold, but it felt so good in the heat. His cheek rested against Eileen’s chest and he watched, dazzled as the purple crystal she wore shone in rhythm with her singing. 

‘I remember,’ he said. She took the necklace off and put it around his neck. He breathed deeply, feeling an immediate connection between his magic and the crystal. 

‘Go ahead. Give it a try,’ she said. He was worried it wouldn’t work, but he very softly began to sing a song his mother had often sang when he was a child,  _ Dacw Nghariad I Lawr Yn Y Berllan.  _ Barely, just barely, the crystal at his chest began to glow, and it seemed to vibrate with magic. Eileen’s smile grew much wider, and the purple light reflected in her dark eyes. 

‘It didn’t get very bright,’ he said sheepishly when he was done. 

‘The more strongly you feel the feelings behind the song, the stronger the magic will be. And certainly when you’ve actually started weaving spells to songs. That is, attach an intention to specific songs and turn them into spells. I’ll show you how to do it,’ she said, taking back her necklace and tucking it back into her blouse. 

‘Some day, I’ll get you one of your own,’ she said. ‘But when I do, you mustn’t ever show anyone this magic, and you mustn’t tell anyone about it either. The ministry consider it dark magic.’ 

‘But why? It isn’t really dark magic, is it?’ Severus asked? Eileen stood up. 

‘Come on, dear. I need to get started on dinner,’ she said. They started walking. Severus worried his mother wouldn’t answer his question. Truthfully, he didn’t care if it was dark. It was part of him. Already, there were many things that were inherently part of who he was that were treated as dark, bad, even unspeakable to some people. 

‘Severus, there’s something you should understand, and I hope you have the wisdom not to repeat these ideas to anyone at Hogwarts,’ she said, taking his hand in hers as they walked. He was still a bit shorter than her, and his hands were still a bit smaller than hers. ‘What the ministry define as dark magic is entirely arbitrary. There are offensive spells that are perfectly legal and healing spells that are illegal. There is not some real quality that makes a spell dark.’ 

‘Then why? What makes them decide something is dark magic?’ Severus asked. It was still early in the afternoon, and the streets of Cokeworth were not so busy. He wasn’t so worried about keeping his voice down. 

‘In this case, it’s because many years ago, before I was born, there was a movement within the ministry to standardise magic to the Latin form we use today. Of course, this meant the destruction of peoples’ cultural magic… But then, I’m sure that was part of the reason they wanted to do it.’ 

Severus felt rage well up in his chest. His free hand clenched into a fist. Once again, there were people trying to erase and silence a part of who he was. He’d heard of the Welsh Not and had counted himself lucky to have even learned the language. This was like a magical, state-enforced version of the same thing. Right then, he hated the ministry. 

\---

The first time Severus saw Lily over the summer break, he felt like a completely different person. So much had happened, and he felt he couldn’t tell her about any of it. She likely wouldn’t understand what his body had decided to do since they’d last seen each other, and he didn’t believe he could trust her with the secret of his magic. Fortunately, the moment he walked into her house, she gave him something else to talk about. 

‘Sev, your hair!’ she exclaimed, smiling. ‘It looks so much better! I’m so glad you decided to cut it.’ He grimaced. When they’d been younger, he’d felt like she knew him so well, and that was why they were best friends. Now she often felt like a stranger, and so many of the things she said felt like they cut him. 

‘I didn’t  _ decide _ to. My father did it  _ to _ me. And I think I look dreadful,’ he said, crossing his arms. He’d hoped to wear his bubbe’s kercheif over his head while over at Lily’s house, but he decided then not to take it out of his pocket. 

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Sev. You’re just trying to be contrarian--you know it looks better this way,’ she said. ‘Come on, the movie’s going to come on soon. Mum made sausage rolls!’ 

‘I’ll find a way to grow it out again,’ Severus grumbled as he followed Lily to the living room. 


	4. new beginnings

Becoming a teacher was the last thing Severus would have wanted for himself. He couldn’t decide which part he hated more: the public speaking or having his time dominated by something he didn’t want to be doing. Marking papers took hours and felt pointless. He could be doing anything with that time. Researching, brewing, raising chinchillas. Bloody anything but marking papers. 

The last 5 years had been a horror show. One tragedy and misfortune after another, and now he was stuck at Hogwarts teaching potions to horrific children. Many of them had attended Hogwarts at the same time as him. With his small stature, they could easily gang up on him, so he made himself as intimidating and unpleasant as possible through his personality. As miserable as he was, that wasn’t so difficult. 

After losing Lily’s friendship, Severus was consumed by loneliness and insecurity, which only made him more susceptible to his housemates. That came to a head in his seventh year when Regulus Black inexplicably began pursuing him. Now, he cursed his 17 year old self for being stupid enough to believe a member of the Black family would seriously consider a halfblood for marriage, but at the time, he excitedly accepted Regulus’ proposal. Sure, it seemed a little odd to him that Regulus wouldn’t so much as kiss him in the years they were engaged, but he’d felt like he shouldn't complain when he didn’t have other prospects. 

The ill-fated engagement culminated in Severus taking the dark mark for his fiance, who had convinced him it would convince Orion and Walburga Black, blood purists, to allow their marriage. Not long after that, Severus remembered bitterly, he caught Regulus in bed with someone else. And of all people, it was  _ Lily _ . 

Then Regulus died, and Severus was trapped as a death eater, under Voldemort’s control. That was when he started looking for some way to get out. Unfortunately he quickly realised that any way out likely included his death. 

When Lily’s life was in danger, he turned to Dumbledore. Now that she was dead, he was stuck at Hogwarts, and it very much felt similar to being stuck as a death eater. 

His whole life, committed to a job he despised. His chest hurt when he imagined himself teaching at Hogwarts, year after year, until either he or Voldemort died. His adult life had barely started, and his new beginning felt more like a life sentence. 

Meagre as his Hogwarts wages were, though, at least here he had the freedom to look however he wanted. His hair was long, his fingers were covered in magically-imbued rings, he wore earrings as dangly as he pleased, and he was outright wearing floral tunic dresses and tights. He didn’t even care that some students made fun of him. Finally how he looked on the outside fit how he felt on the inside much, much better. 

Of course, Severus couldn’t be allowed to have anything good in life. 

One morning, just before the start of term in January 1982, Severus left his quarters to his adjoining office to find a note on his desk. 

‘See me in my office,’ it read, and it was signed by dumbledore. Severus was glad he didn’t typically eat breakfast, as a sour feeling came over his stomach. He dreaded seeing Dumbledore. The old wizard had saved his life, yes, but he had open contempt for Severus. 

Severus had gotten out of the habit of shuffling along, barely picking up his feet as he walked. That was much harder to do when one wore three inch heeled boots all the time. The stiletto heels clicked as he walked through the corridors, looking much more confident than he felt. Students in theI7 corridor kept their distance. He liked that. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment. 

He took a deep, shaking breath as he rode the stairs up to Dumbledore’s office. Before he even saw the man, he was filled with shame. Talking to the headmaster always reminded him what a useless, horrible person he was, and the feeling of self hatred that followed was always overwhelming. To think, he’d have to get through a day of work, being stared at by children and teenagers and feeling  _ their _ judgement as well, was nearly unbearable. 

‘Severus,’ Dumbledore said grimly as he entered the office. The old wizard looked at him like he would a stain on one of his colourful robes. He had a completely different demeanour when talking to him than with any other professor--as far as Severus knew. Severus sighed and sat down in the chair across from Dumbledore’s desk. 

‘Yes, Headmaster?’ he asked in a flat voice. 

‘Disrespectful as always,’ Dumbledore muttered. There were times that Severus wished, although it went against everything he believed in, that he had stayed loyal to Voldemort. Most of them occurred during one of his little chats with Dumbledore. 

‘Anyway,’ Dumbledore continued. ‘I asked you up here to talk about your inappropriate work clothes.’ Severus felt like he’d been stabbed with an icicle.  _ Inappropriate?  _ His freedom regarding his clothing and appearance was the only kind of freedom he felt in his life. 

‘Inappropriate in what way, sir?’ he asked, maintaining a level and uninflected voice. His growing skill with occlumency helped him keep often his volatile emotions in check when he needed to. A few years before, and he’d be unsuccessfully trying to stop himself from crying in this sort of situation. 

‘You dress like a woman, Severus,’ Dumbledore said bluntly. Severus felt himself start to tremble and his face got hot. He wanted to get defensive. He wanted to run out of the room and run away from Hogwarts. 

‘That’s your opinion, sir. I don’t think--’ 

‘You’re wearing a dress covered in flowers,’ Dumbledore pointed out. Severus tightened his lips into a thin line. 

‘What would you like for me to do, Headmaster. These are my clothes, and I’m not wealthy. Anyway, it’s not a dress. It’s a tunic. That’s not uncommon for wizards of the Prince family’ he said, sneering. He wanted to melt into the floor. He wanted to disappear. 

‘Perhaps I can provide you with some alternatives. At the very least, if you’re going to wear things like that--tunics, as you call them--they could be a bit more conservative.’ 

Severus rose one thin eyebrow at that, questioning what exactly he meant. 

‘No flowers, Severus,’ Dumbeldore said, looking down at him over the tops of his half-moon glasses. Severus sneered again. Rich, coming from someone wearing baby blue and purple robes. 

‘Very well,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Is that all, sir? I have to prepare for class.’ Dumbledore nodded and Severus walked back to his office, full of impotent rage. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50684582562/in/dateposted-public/)

\---

After classes that afternoon, Severus went back to his quarters. He wanted to be alone as long as he could before class the next morning. Just when he felt the tiniest bit of freedom, Dumbledore had to snatch it away and stomp on it. The worst part was the guilt he felt over his anger. Dumbledore had essentially saved his life. 

  
_ I have no right to be angry at him for anything,  _ Severus thought as he approached the secret door to his quarters from his office: a 6 foot tall painting of the River Severn. As soon as he entered, his resolve to suppress his anger at Dumbledore was immediately tested. There were clothes laid out on his couch. Solid black frock coats and trousers. Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He  _ hated  _ wearing trousers, apart from denim which he felt for some reason were a little less gendered. He picked up one of the frock coats. It wasn’t horrible, but he hated it because it was being forced on him. He burned with the urge to pick up and leave forever. No matter where he went, there were people trying to stop him from being who he was. 


	5. name

**name**

Severus had become more depressed than he had ever been after some time of working at Hogwarts. Any hope for a life that he had any control over was gone. His greatest aspirations had been using his potions mastery to research and invent new potions and to have a family. Now his potions skill would go towards being a professor, something he hated very much, and he had very little hope of ever finding someone who would marry him. Between his dark mark and what he saw as his sentence of working at Hogwarts, it was unlikely. With his job, he only had time to even attempt to meet people over the summers. It didn’t help matters that he hated socialising. 

His preference for solitude led him to dread what he knew was coming that evening. A meeting of the order, and Dumbledore had insisted he attend. The headmaster had designated him as their spy, and it was handy that he could make advanced potions if the need arose. Severus was dreading it. He knew it was likely that the members of the Order would look down on him like the scum he was. 

In a passive aggressive move, Severus decided he’d wear one of those floral tunics Albus had forbade him to wear while teaching. He put on makeup, clipped his hair up, and painted his usually black nails a warm purple. It was more care than he’d put into his appearance since his engagement with Regulus ended. 

While he waited for his nails to dry--he didn’t like to use spells for that because they always seemed to much up his polish--he used his magic to open up the most recent copy of  _ Queer Witches’ and Wizards’ Quarterly _ . It was a fairly new publication that had begun in the late 70s, put together by the International Magical People for Queer Liberation. The back page of each issue contained an introduction to the group and their purpose. They were a queer advocacy group based in North America. 

Severus had first discovered the magazine when he had gone to an event at a gay bookstore on Diagon Alley, hoping to meet someone. This had been just after things went bad with Regulus. Of course, he’d been too shy to actually talk to anyone else, and no one approached him, so he just browsed until the thing was over. This magazine had caught his eye because of an article titled ‘The Homophobia of Capitalism’ advertised on the front cover. He’d liked that first issue so much that he’d bought a subscription. 

He was eager to look through this issue--first quarter of 1982--because he’d heard a little bit about GRID, and he wanted to get a queer perspective on it. What little mainstream news was reporting about it was heavily biased against gay men. Unsurprisingly, there were multiple articles about the mysterious illnesses, and one of them even included an interview from someone in the hospital with pneumonia. 

This was more terrifying than just seeing it mentioned in an offhand way in a muggle newspaper. It made it far more real, and it made Severus feel angry and hopeless: emotions he was feeling a lot lately. 

_ We get harassed and shat on all our lives as children, and now we’re dying of some mysterious disease,  _ he thought, tightening his jaw and trying to push down the feelings of fear and helplessness. It didn’t help that a lot of the people getting sick were around his age. He knew there were already some cases in the UK. 

His nails had dried, but he had since forgotten about them. He leafed through the magazine to see what else had been written. Expecting to find more about GRID, the next article he turned to filled him with an entirely different sort of fear. 

‘Between the Binaries: Neither Witch nor Wizard’

Severus felt his heart skip a beat. That was  _ him _ , and he’d never seen or heard anyone put this concept into words. He was both excited and afraid to read it. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall of his quarters. 

_ Damn!  _ He didn’t have time. He had to go to the order meeting. Severus reverently set the magazine down on his coffee table and placed a large potions text on top of it. Albus had been in his quarters before without permission, after all. 

\---

The sound of chatter filled the room, and Severus hated it. Whenever he was in a room full of people, he felt like everyones’ eyes were on him, judging him. It was exhausting, and he got enough of it every day when he taught class. 

Dumbledore was already there. He gave Severus a disdainful look when he saw what he was wearing. Severus just smirked. Truthfully, Dumbledore’s judgement scared him and made him feel ashamed, but he was trying to be defiant. His pride in his queerness was one of the few things about himself that he actually felt good about. 

Already tired after only minutes of being there, Severus sat in a corner and tried to make himself look very small. At least Black would not be there. Thinking of Black, he scanned the room for Lupin. The man had the air of someone twice his age, thin with worry and poverty. Before Black’s imprisonment, Lupin might have been glad to see him and tried to be friendly, making up for their animosity as students. Now the werewolf looked away when Severus caught his eye. He looked like he didn’t want to be there. 

_ That makes two of us, _ Severus thought. 

Severus wanted to rush back to his quarters and read that article. 

A plump ginger woman sat beside him and began knitting. He looked at her with eyebrows furrowed. She just smiled at him. 

‘Hello, dear. I’m Molly Weasley. I believe you're one of my son’s teachers,’ she said. He sighed. He hadn’t been planning on a parent-teacher conference. 

‘I am,’ he said. 

‘You look very young yourself,’ she commented, looking down at her knitting as if she’d just hit a tough spot with it. 

‘I’m 22,’ he said, looking around the room. Could he escape this conversation? 

‘Just a baby!’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to speak Welsh, would you?’ That got his attention. 

‘I do, but--’ 

‘There’s a very handsome wizard,’ she said, gesturing discretely to a large bearded man with blond hair. He was wringing his hands, obviously feeling very awkward, and he was wearing a gold tunic and tights. ‘Just over there. I don’t think he speaks much English. Perhaps you could help him.’ 

Severus blinked at her. 

‘He’s very handsome,’ she said with her eyebrows raised. Severus shrugged, got up, and approached the man. Already, he felt the nervous pull to leave the situation. He hated approaching people. 

‘Um, Hello. I’m Severus Snape,’ he said in Welsh, hoping Mrs Weasley had not been mistaken about the situation. The man looked down at Severus and smiled a wide smile. 

‘You speak Welsh? Thank Merlin! My name is Caradoc Dearborn,’ he said. Severus had heard of the Dearborn family. They were one of the few Welsh Wizarding families who resisted the standardisation of magic and magical culture. The Dearborns and the Princes. It was no wonder he didn’t speak much English. 

‘I do. My mother was Eileen Prince,’ he said. He had to be careful to remember to act like she was dead, rather than just hiding. 

‘My condolences,’ Caradoc said, once again feeling awkward. Severus empathised with him. 

‘What made you decide to join the order? I thought the Dearborns didn’t like to get involved with outside conflict,’ Severus asked. Mrs Weasley had been right. Caradoc was not only handsome, he was Severus’ type. He was a bear of a man. Muscular but soft. 

‘The Dark Lord poses a threat to everyone. My family, included,’ he said. ‘They agreed to send me along as a representative to the order. The only problem is… er…’ 

‘The language barrier?’ Severus asked. Caradoc nodded sheepishly. Severus’ hearth pounded. Such a big, strong wizard feeling so out of his element. He was very cute, Severus decided. 

‘I’ll be your translator then,’ he assured him, trying his best to smile. He was more out of practice with smiling than he was with speaking Welsh, though. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50734935232/in/dateposted-public/)

\---

Severus did spend the rest of the evening acting as Caradoc’s interpreter. He watched as the man grew more confident and comfortable throughout the night, and he felt a surge of pride that he had something to do with that. Best of all, he asked Severus to stay in contact with him, hoping he’d write him as soon as possible. Severus tried to tell himself he wasn’t interested in him that way, but he couldn’t help getting his hopes up a little bit. Even when he reminded himself of the way Regulus had toyed with his affections. Caradoc seemed a more earnest man than Regulus, though. 

By the time he was leaving the meeting to go back to his quarters, he’d nearly forgotten about the article in  _ Queer Witches’ and Wizards’ Quarterly.  _ As soon as he saw that thick, old potions text on the middle of his coffee table, though, he remembered. He took off his heels and jumped over the back of his couch to retrieve the magazine. With shaking hands, he flipped to the article. 

‘Between the Binaries: Neither Witch nor Wizard’

His eyes moved quickly across the page. His heart pounded even harder than when he’d been talking to Caradoc Dearborn. There he read about several magical folks referring to themselves as wixen rather than witch or wizard. What stood out to him most is that no two of them shared the same identity or ideas of what their own personal gender was. While many of them used singular ‘they’ pronouns, not all of them did. It seemed there was no right or wrong way to be this way. 

Nonbinary, as the article reffered to it. Even though each person had their own words for it, that was the one that stuck in his mind. It was like a rock falling into a pond and making bigger and bigger waves. Severus stood up and started pacing until he caught his reflection in the mirror. Normally, he hated looking at himself, but tonight, he stopped and stared. 

When he looked like this, he didn’t  _ hate _ the way he looked. When he wore makeup and clipped his hair up. If only he could look that way all the time. And now that article gave him a kind of permission to truly embrace it in his heart. He wasn’t just a feminine man. He wasn’t a man at all, but something else. A person who could look like this and express femininity, and everyone else, Dumbledore included, be damned. 

He could be like those people interviewed in the magazine. He could use different pronouns, if he wanted to, though he rather liked the idea of continuing to use ‘he’ while presenting in an unquestionably feminine way. And what if he called himself ‘he’, but then thought of himself as a ‘witch’? 

He was intrigued by the term ‘wix’, but he’d always secretly wanted to refer to himself with feminine titles--at least part of the time. He wanted to be his mother’s son, but if he had a child, he wanted to be its mother. And for the first time in his life, he felt like that might be okay to do. 

At first, he’d been disappointed when he found that other men who could carry children fully thought of themselves as men, and none of them had expressed an inkling of what he felt about himself, but he didn’t need for them to validate these feelings if there were some people somewhere who did. Even if no one ever took him seriously, he knew he wasn’t alone. 


	6. passion

By second year, Severus was absolutely sure that he wanted to become a potions master. He had always enjoyed brewing potions--it was one kind of magic that his mother could get away with teaching him without Tobias noticing. Once he got to Hogwarts, though, he realised his skill level far surpassed his yearmates. He wasn’t particularly good at much else. Charms and transfiguration were both very difficult for him. He had an edge in potions, though, and much of it came from the fact that he very much enjoyed the order and tedium of it, whereas other students quickly got bored or frustrated. 

By seventh year, Severus was already working on his mastery. In order to be certified as a master brewer, he would have to invent his own potion and have it approved by the Bureau of Potions at the ministry. His goal was to create a potion that would allow the user to temporarily increase their stamina for strenuous activity. Put simply, it would allow a person to run without getting short of breath. 

Throughout the year, he spent long hours in the potions classroom, which Slughorn allowed and endorsed, knowing that he was intent on becoming a master brewer. While most students were preparing to go to Hogsmeade that November morning, Severus was about to go to the potions classroom. Sitting in the common room, he checked his bag to make sure he had his copy of Advanced Potions as well as several composition books he’d picked up at a muggle store. He needed to have all of his notes if he wanted to have a productive day of brewing. 

‘Are you bringing all that stuff to Hogsmeade?’ a very deep voice said from above him. He looked up at the tall young man beside him. His fiance, Regulus. Despite being a year younger than Severus, he was nearly a full foot taller than him. He was also devastatingly handsome, and sometimes Severus wasn’t sure what Regulus would see in a homely shrimp like him. 

Lately, though, Severus had been paying a lot more attention to his appearance. His hair was finally properly long, almost down to his mid back, and he used potions and shampoo to keep it sleek and shiny. He’d taken to wearing makeup and had nicer robes and more jewellery. This was one of the benefits of being engaged to a member of the Black family. Regulus didn’t like him looking poor; he said it reflected badly on himself, so he made sure that Severus had nice clothes and jewellery. Severus had also used some of the money Regulus gave him to get prescription glasses.

‘I didn’t plan to go to Hogsmeade. I still have a lot of work to do on my potion,’ he said softly. He was quiet enough that Regulus had to kneel down next to Severus to hear him. Whenever Regulus was close to him like that, Severus just wanted to put his arms around him and kiss his full lips, but Regulus never allowed it. He ached to run his fingers through Regulus’ thick, black hair. At least he’d have the chance once they were actually married. 

‘You’re still trying to get your mastery certification?’ Regulus asked, thick brow arched. 

‘Of course,’ Severus hissed, annoyed but unwilling to raise his voice above what might be called a whisper. He preferred to speak quietly enough that he didn’t feel the resonance of his voice. Ever since it had changed, he hated the sound of it. The only exception he made was for singing. He was annoyed because Regulus had recently been getting on his back about his aspiration to be a potions master. 

‘It’s just that most potions masters are witches,’ He said, sitting on the sofa next to the chair Severus sat in. Severus rolled his eyes. 

‘Slughorn’s not a witch. Fleamont Potter’s not a witch,’ Severus snapped. This was something he’d heard before. He knew the ratio of men to women in potions was quite low, though. He just didn’t care. More and more, he was embracing his own femininity. Even apart from his sense of euphoria at being feminine, potions were his passion. Nothing in the world made him happier than working on potions. 

‘I guess it’s not the worst thing, but can’t you take a day off to go to Hogsmeade?’ Regulus asked. Severus was tempted. It was rare that Regulus actually wanted to spend time with him. He knew he was so close to a breakthrough with his potion, though. He bit his lip. 

‘You could come hang around with me while I work on it,’ he said, bracing himself to get turned down. He reached down to turn his silver engagement ring on his finger as he often did when he was feeling insecure about their relationship. Regulus shrugged. 

‘I could come after Hogsmeade. I’ll bring you some of that honeycomb chocolate you like,’ he said. Severus brightened and nodded. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50805181331/in/dateposted-public/)


	7. revolution

Summers were a dilemma for Severus for much of the first decade he worked at Hogwarts. He’d pleaded with his mother to go into hiding when he’d first gotten involved with the death eaters, because he knew they’d consider her a ‘blood traitor’. He saw them murder people like her regularly. She left his father and faked her death, fleeing to hide amongst an insular Welsh wizarding community in Patagonia. As much as it relieved Severus that she was safe from the death eaters, her escape meant that he couldn’t return to Spinner’s End. His father wanted nothing to do with him so long as he was queer and used magic. 

He couldn’t easily stay with his grandparents, either. They’d returned to Bratislava at the start of the 80s. 

He also couldn’t afford a place of his own. Being a professor at Hogwarts didn’t pay much, and certainly not enough to maintain a residence outside of the castle. 

That left him with two options. Living at Hogwarts twelve months of the year or being homeless. 

The first summer he tried to stay at Hogwarts proved how untenable it was. With many of the professors gone, Dumbledore leaned on him even more heavily, demanding extra work and extra attention. He would never just leave Severus be. It nearly drove him mad--madder than he already was--but he endured. 

The summer of 1982 was the most wonderful of his life. He stayed with Caradoc in Wales. They talked of getting married and having children. Unlike his engagement to Regulus, this one was not loveless. It was everything Severus had ever wanted until Caradoc was killed on Order business by some remaining death eaters. Worst of all, it was Dumbledore who’d broken the news. No body could be recovered. 

As the end of term approached in 1983, Severus began to dread being practically alone with Dumbledore over the summer. 

Severus started leaving the castle whenever he could, going into muggle London and just walking around until he got tired. He found there was a more gay-friendly area, and he started to favour going there. 

On one such trip, he found a squat. He decided to stay there for the rest of the summer. It was less comfortable than Hogwarts in some ways, but he’d grown up in poverty, and he wasn’t too precious to feel at home there. It was particularly nice to be surrounded by other queer people who didn’t care about what he wore. Mostly they minded their own business and left Severus up to his own devices. 

There was substantial space in the squat for Severus to have something of his own room. It was a closet-sized room just big enough for him to lie down on a sleeping bag. He supposed he was relegated to one of the smaller rooms due to his own short stature. 

Without electricity, Severus had to use his wand at night to get anything done. He knew the other people who lived there were muggles, so it was a bit of a risk, but most of them stayed out until dawn. Sometimes someone would try to invite him to come out to the nearest pub with them, but he had no interest in that. He didn’t like being around people, and he was still grieving Caradoc. 

He thought a lot about Caradoc over that summer. During the school year, he was always busy. He found distractions in the tedium and stress of his job. The long, hot, empty days of summer left him vulnerable to bittersweet memories. 

Caradoc was the first person outside of his family that he’d told about the special magic his mother taught him, and he was very interested in helping Severus tying spells to songs. Just after Caradoc’s death, Severus couldn’t bring himself to work on it anymore. That summer, though, he used every chance he got to work on it. Enough time had passed that it made him feel closer to his late lover, rather than overwhelmed with pain. 

Initially he’d only used traditional Welsh songs. This was easier because Caradoc didn’t speak English or any other language. Now, though, Severus was on his own, and he could do magic with any song he liked. That included contemporary music, like disco. 

One night, when the air was too hot and balmy for him to sit inside, he moved to the flat roof of the building to work on his magic. Since he had taught himself to levitate, he wanted to see how far he could push his ability. Could combining that ability with song allow him to push his levitation capability? Even fly? The roof seemed a good place to practice. There was a three foot wall around the rooftop. If anyone was looking at him, they’d assume he was stepping up on an object whenever he started to levitate.    
  
He wasn’t sure what kind of music he would try with this spell. He likely wouldn’t be bothered for the evening, so for a while, he just paced on the roof, singing his favourite songs. He loved Culture Club, so he was singing  _ I’ll Tumble 4 Ya _ , trying to let the magic do what it’d do. 

‘I knew it!’ a voice cut through Severus’ concentration. His heart felt like it came up into his throat. At least he had not been levitating. Once his soul reentered his body, he looked over his shoulder to see one of the other squatters. Eric. Short, but not quite as short as Severus, black hair cropped close to his head, dark brown skin, and eyes just as dark as Severus’. 

‘Kn-knew what?’ Severus asked, feeling self conscious about having been caught singing. He wanted to sink through the roof. 

‘You’re trying to pull off that Boy George look, aren’t you?’ Eric asked, walking past Severus to lean against the wall of the roof. Severus began considering the benefits of developing an invisibility spell. 

‘Just because I was singing Culture Club doesn’t mean I’m trying to look like Boy George,’ he said, barely audibly. 

‘The long black hair, the make up, the earrings, the outfits,’ Eric pointed out. Severus’ face went red. He’d been dressing like that for years. He didn’t want to come off as defensive--that would be even more mortifying--but he’d overcome a lot to be able to look and dress how he wanted. Eric seemed to catch onto Severus’ embarrassment. 

‘Hey, I wasn’t saying it like it was a bad thing, mate. And anyway, you’re really good at singing,’ he said. ‘I do a little singing myself, you know.’ 

\---

Despite putting a lot of time and energy into learning to sing well, Severus had never intentionally done it in front of another person, other than his mother. The idea of even trying it made him want to hide under his duvet and never come out. He feared it would be as uncomfortable and embarrassing as standing in front of a room full of teenagers and trying to explain potions-making to them. 

Regardless of that, he and Eric had come up to the roof almost every day after their first encounter to sing together, at Eric’s behest. At first, Severus had been terrified his magic would come out while he was singing, but he found he was able to control it. 

The first time, he sang the way he spoke: barely above a whisper. 

‘Come on, Snape,’ Eric insisted. ‘I heard you sing that first night. I know you can do better than that!’ Severus sighed and shrugged, but Eric’s encouragement was not something he was used to. He liked it, and he wanted more of it. He rolled back his shoulders and started singing  _ Gimme Gimme Gimme  _ about as shyly as any person could. 

‘No, not like that! Put your body into it. Dance a little, like you did the first time,’ Eric insisted, swaying his hips for emphasis. Severus’ mouth twisted into an awkward smile. 

‘Why don’t you show me?’ he asked, putting his elbow onto the wall and leaning back against it. Eric shrugged off his zip-up hoodie without a second thought. He just wore a tank top underneath, and Severus could see they had very similar body types. Eric started dancing and singing easily, without any shame, and Severus envied him. He didn’t understand how people did that. Although he wasn’t ashamed of his gender presentation, he was ashamed of himself in a general sense, and he felt very uncomfortable doing anything around people. 

\---

‘How do you do that so easily?’ Severus asked one night after one of their sessions on the roof. He and Eric lay side by side on Severus’ bedroll, holding hands. Severus was not used to such tactile friendship, but Eric seemed to crave it. 

‘Do what, sweetheart?’ Eric asked. He liked using terms of endearment, too. It threw Severus off guard. 

‘Sing and dance in front of people without wanting to just die of embarrassment?’ Severus said, then second guessed himself. ‘Not that  _ you _ have anything to be embarrassed about. I just mean--’ 

Eric cut him off with a laugh. 

‘I knew what you meant. Don’t worry about it,’ he said. He stayed silent for a bit, considering, rubbing Severus’ hand with his thumb as he did. 

‘It’s a performance,’ he explained. ‘I don’t just mean that singing is. The confidence is, too. It’s like you create a version of yourself that isn’t afraid or embarrassed. Like a character. And then you play that character.’ 

\---

‘Come on, Severus. Let’s go out for once,’ Eric said early one Friday evening. ‘I swear I haven’t seen you leave this building once all summer.’ 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I go to the laundromat to do my laundry every few days,’ Severus said, sitting in the corner of the room he stayed in with his arms crossed. Eric rolled his eyes. 

‘You know that’s not what I mean. Come on, I really want to show you something,’ he said, kneeling on the floor in front of Severus and leaning against him. Eric’s tendency to touch was beginning to confuse him. Feeling his torso pressed against a man--a man who was nice to him, no less--made part of him want more. 

‘All right, fine,’ he said quickly as an excuse to stand up. He was afraid if Eric knew he was attracted to him, he’d be disgusted and not want to be his friend anymore. 

The two of them walked hand in hand down busy streets. Severus clung to Eric’s hand, feeling terribly uncomfortable around so many people. They walked into a door that led to a narrow stairway leading down into a basement which consisted of a small corridor with a few doors. Just beyond one door, Severus could hear voices. He tensed, and Eric looked at him, lips pursed. 

‘We can leave if you don’t like it,’ he said, ‘But just give it a chance.’ Severus reluctantly followed him through the door. Inside was a tiny dark room filled with crowded tables and a stage. Because of the crowd, Eric and Severus had to stand at the back. After a few moments, a drag performer came onto the stage. Severus, who had never seen a dragshow, was nervous and excited. 

The performer wore gaudy makeup and their mannerisms were exaggerated. Severus could tell the singing was lipsynced. He had mixed feelings. The idea of drag should appeal to him, he thought, but this was caricature. A performance of femininity or something like it, when he felt his femininity was something authentic to him. He didn’t want to discount that this person was expressing something authentic, albeit differently to the way he would, but it wasn’t something that connected with him. 

Eric grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his pensive state. 

‘What did you think?’ he asked but didn’t give Severus time to answer. ‘Wait here, okay? Just stay right here, don’t move, and keep watching the stage.’ Severus tried to protest when Eric pulled away and disappeared through another door. Severus’ skin prickled with how self conscious and uncomfortable he felt, standing alone in a crowded room, unsure of how to get back to the squat if he needed to. 

He felt uneasy as he watched a few more numbers that were basically similar to the first. His anxiety grew and he looked around the room hoping to see his friend again. More people came in and stood very close to him. The crowd became dense enough that peoples’ arms brushed against his. He felt panic rising in his chest. 

Severus was about to push his way out of the room when another performer walked onto the stage. Despite the wig and sequined red dress, he could see right away that it was Eric. Severus’ breath caught in his throat. Not only did Eric look incredible, he actually sang with his own voice. It seemed somehow so much more powerful and had a presence that it hadn’t had on the roof. The room was hushed as he sang  _ Killing Me Softly _ . He remembered what Eric had said about where he got his confidence--create a version of yourself who is confident as a character and play that character--but Severus didn’t think Eric appeared to be performing a character. His song felt authentic and earnest.

When it was over, Severus just stood there in a daze that was only broken when the audience around him applauded. After another performance started, he saw Eric, back in his street clothes but still wearing makeup, pushing through the crowd to meet him again. To his surprise, Severus felt himself smiling a genuine, unrestrained smile. 

‘You were really great,’ Severus said, but his words were drowned out by the high energy disco song now playing. Eric grabbed his hand again and they made their way past the crowd to the exit. Once they were out of the room, a lot of Severus’ anxiety fell away. 

‘I said you were great,’ Severus said. Eric smirked at him. 

‘I know.’ Soon they were back in the open air, walking back to the squat. 

‘I had no idea you did that kind of thing,’ Severus said. ‘Performing on stage, I mean.’ 

‘You could do it, too, you know,’ Eric said. ‘You’re as good a singer as I am.’ Severus quickly shook his head. 

‘No, I’d be mortified,’ he said. 

\---

‘Holy shit, is that a picture of you?’ 

‘Me? That’s my mother,’ Severus said. His mother had been sending him letters via a PO box he had in London. Around the time he’d started working at Hogwarts, Eileen had faked her death and left to stay with an insular Welsh-speaking wizarding community in Argentina. Apparently, they were also militant communists. In the photo, his mother stood shoulder to shoulder with several other people in fatigues, holding automatic rifles. 

On one hand, Severus was pretty shocked to see his mother armed and looking confidently and defiantly into the camera. Was this the same woman who had sheepishly tiptoed around his needy, drunk, violent father? On the other hand, he remembered how she’d urged him to read Marx as a young teenager. Perhaps finding people who held the same values as her brought out her self confidence. Then again, Severus remembered what Eric had said about confidence and performance. 

‘Your mother? What is she, part of some kind of drug cartel?’ he asked, shocked. Severus laughed. 

‘No, she doesn’t work for the US government.’ Eric looked at him quizzically. Severus was disappointed that his joke had fallen flat. 

‘It was a joke. She’s just part of some Welsh communist thing in Argentina,’ he explained. Eric raised both eyebrows and shook his head. 

‘Okay, well, that’s cool I guess,’ he said, grabbing for the photo. ‘Hey, your mum’s pretty butch, huh.’ 

‘I think it’s just the fatigues. She always wore dresses and skirts when I was growing up,’ Severus said, though he looked over Eric’s shoulder at the picture again. There was a woman in a bandanna leaning against his mother affectionately. ‘I would always wear her blouses when I was a kid. My dad hated that.’ 

‘See? You were made for drag,’ Eric said with a smile. Severus bit his bottom lip. He didn’t like opening up to people. 

‘I don’t know if it’s really drag for me,’ he said. ‘I mean, it’s not drag if you’re doing it in earnest, is it?’ Eric took a moment to think about that. Severus self consciously stared at the orange afternoon light coming through the window and the specks of dust that floated through it. 

‘I don’t know. There are queens that always wear womens’ clothing. I guess they have a whole different look out of drag, though,’ Eric responded. ‘Some of them are, like, full time women, so to speak.’ Severus nodded thoughtfully. 

‘I noticed that your style for drag is less… outrageous than others,’ Severus pointed out. He’d wanted to ask about it but he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. This wasn’t really a world he was part of. 

‘Yeah, I like to look really chic. Always did. I wore my mum’s clothes, too, you know?’ 

‘What is it that made you want to do that as a kid?’ Severus asked. He was suddenly feeling bolder. He was eager to know someone else who felt like he did. ‘Between the binaries’, like that magazine article. 

‘What made me want to? I really don’t know… I just liked it, you know? The colours, the fabrics. Much better than the clothes they make for men.’ 

‘You don’t ever like to feel feminine?’ Severus asked. He hugged himself as he often did when he felt insecure. 

‘Sure I do, of course,’ Eric said. He sprawled onto the floor, propping his head up with his arm. He contorted himself to rest one foot on Severus’ lap. ‘Sometimes I do like to feel feminine. Sometimes I like to feel masculine.’ Severus bit his lip as he tried to gather the courage to ask what he wanted to ask. 

‘Do you ever feel… not like a man?’ Eric blinked at him. Every second he wasn’t responding, Severus’ heart pounded in his chest. 

‘Well, not really. I guess I always feel like I’m a man,’ he said. ‘But I know there are a lot of queens who feel that way.’ Severus wanted to crawl into a hole, even though Eric was not making him feel bad about asking. He hated the idea that a part of himself had likely just been perceived. 

‘Think I’ll take a nap,’ Severus said in a very small voice. He gathered his mother’s photos and letter and put them into his backpack. He probably shouldn’t risk having the letter out, anyway, in case she had said anything about the magical world. He got into his bedroll. Eric sighed, annoyed, and left the room.

\---

Eric was used to Severus’ bouts of self consciousness and his frequent need for solitude. Later that night, they were on the roof again as if nothing had happened. Severus found that he could feel a lot less aware of himself being perceived when he was singing. Since Eric had compared it to playing a character, he found that singing started to feel like a comfortable mask he could put on. Anyone watching him would focus on the performance and not on him. As a result, he was getting better at singing in front of Eric. He almost believed he could do it in front of a crowd, even if the idea still terrified him. 

‘We could always go on together, you know,’ Eric said after they did sing  _ Enough is Enough _ together. ‘Would that make it easier for you?’ Severus shrugged noncommittally. Truthfully, it would make it easier, but he didn’t want to make any promises. 

After their time on the roof, Severus was tired, but his nap earlier meant he wasn’t sleepy. He and Eric lay on his bedroll together, holding hands and talking. 

‘I wish I had a telly,’ Severus said. ‘I never had one as a kid. I had to go to my best friend’s house to watch it.’ 

‘Oh, a “best friend”?’ Eric asked suggestively. Severus sniffed in laughter. 

‘Not like that. She was a girl. Her father was a manager at the mill my dad worked at. Guess he probably still works there,’ Severus said. 

‘Do you still talk to her?’ 

‘No, she’s not… She died a few years ago.’ Severus knew most 23 year olds didn’t have a lot of dead friends. It made him nervous to talk about this because how could he explain how his ex best friend, his ex fiance, and his lover had all died in the past few years without explaining there had been a war he’d never even heard of? 

‘Fuck, Snape, how many people in your life have died?’ Eric asked. Severus sighed heavily. Too many. ‘Does this all have something to do with your mom living with those people? Like… are they protecting her from something? Is that why you live in a squat?’ Eric was more or less correct, apart from the last bit. 

‘I live in a squat because I’m poor and my boarding school job has shit wages,’ he explained. ‘Everything else, though… yeah. But I can’t really talk about it. I uh… don’t want you to be in danger.’ 

Eric propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Severus. Their faces were almost touching, and Severus’ breath caught in his throat. 

‘You work at a  _ boarding school _ ?’ he asked, incredulously. ‘Looking the way you do?’ Severus couldn’t believe that was the most unbelievable aspect of his life. 

‘Yes! It’s in Scotland.’ 

‘And they don’t pay you enough to live in a flat or something? Do you teach or are you a groundskeeper or something?’ 

‘I teach!’ Severus protested. Then he realised the question that Eric would certainly ask. He tried to think of what subject was analogous to potions in a muggle school. He thought better of saying something like chemistry because he knew fuck all about science and he was terrible at maths. ‘I teach cooking. Er, culinary arts.’ 

‘They teach that kind of thing at boarding school?’ Eric asked doubtfully. 

‘They do at the one I work for,’ he responded, as if he was offended to be doubted. Eric sniffed in laughter. Severus sighed but then Eric was on him, kissing him, and his head was swimming. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Eric’s back, which encouraged him. Internally, Severus was panicking. He’d only ever been with Caradoc. Kissing back felt like a betrayal, but it had been so long since anyone had held him or touched him. His body burned with desire as their kiss deepened and something hard pressed against Severus’ own erection. 

\---

Severus didn’t get much sleep after that. He hadn’t let things go farther than the two of them jerking eachother off, but the whole thing had taken him by surprise. 

‘What uh… what did last night mean?’ he asked as they walked back from the corner store for snacks. Eric looked at him with his brows furrowed in confusion. 

‘What does it mean? I wanted to fool around, and you seemed okay with it. Were you not?’ Severus bit his lip. So it wasn’t something serious. Although generally Severus was the sentimental type in a relationship, he was relieved. He couldn’t get deeply involved with a muggle. Besides, he had a depressing lack of experience with men. 

‘I was. I just figured we should, you know… be clear about expectations,’ Severus said, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. 

‘I don’t have any expectations. I’m just not really seeing anyone and I was in the mood. Is it so weird for mates to fuck around?’ A friends with benefits situation actually sounded quite ideal to Severus. He made a note to buy condoms, though. There was no way he would be able to explain accidentally getting pregnant to Eric. He was more worried about that than he was catching something. 

\---

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169765503@N02/50951521778/in/dateposted-public/)

Severus couldn’t believe what he was about to do. Stuffed into a tiny backroom with a vanity and a mirror, wearing a black sequin dress and a blonde feathered wig, he trembled violently. 

‘Here, put these on,’ Eric said, handing him some long black gloves. ‘I still can’t believe you have a tattoo. You really don’t seem the type.’

‘Believe me, I regret it,’ he said, pulling the gloves hastily up his thin arms. Eric was wearing a simile black dress and a black feathered wig. Looking at the two of them in the mirror, Severus had to admit, they looked pretty good. All he had to do was perform and try not to faint. 

His last thought as he walked onto the stage before he started singing was that the audience looked a lot more receptive than Hogwarts students. 

\---

That night after the performance was the first time they had full sex. Severus was feeling exhilarated from actually going through with going on stage. When it came down to who was topping, though, they had an argument. 

‘No, I’ve never topped before,’ Severus said, crossing his arms over his thin, naked chest. 

‘You’d never performed on stage before, either, before tonight,’ Eric pointed out. 

‘Right, that’s enough firsts for me tonight,’ Severus insisted. Eric relented, and Severus attempted to put a condom on him without it being awkward. The sex itsself was fairly awkward on the whole, but Severus didn’t really care. He was just happy to feel a man moving inside of him, bringing him closer and closer to release. 

\---

Of course, the next time they were together, Eric insisted Severus top as a matter of fairness. He felt more anxiety and stage fright over that than he had over performing in drag. Wearing a dress and singing felt a lot more natural to him than trying to fuck someone, but he supposed it was only fair. Anyway, it was sex with a man--how bad could it be? 

‘You look like you’re about to go to the dentist, Snape. Doesn’t do much for my self confidence,’ Eric said, lying on his bad, legs spread. Severus was hovering over him, trying to get up his nerve. 

‘Sorry,’ he said, before finally pressing himself where he needed to be and pushing in. He gasped. It was a strange, overwhelming feeling. Eric immediately wrapped his arms around Severus and pulled him close. 

_ It’s a performance,  _ he told himself as he began thrusting. In truth, he was afraid. He was intensely aware of every reaction Eric was having. Every second, his skin prickled with self consciousness and fear of disappointing his friend.  _ It’s like drag. Just pretend you’re confident and you know what you’re doing.  _

Somehow, he made it through. Eric’s body tightened and convulsed when he came, and that allowed Severus to finish. He rolled off of Eric and took several deep breaths. He hadn’t liked how it made him feel. He knew then that he really didn’t like being on top. It made him feel like he had to pretend to be someone and something he wasn’t. It was one performance he didn’t care to repeat. 

\---

Summer ended shortly after that. Severus did a few more drag performances, but he and Eric didn’t sleep together again. Eric assumed that Severus’ stiff and nervous attempt at topping him meant there wasn’t a lot of chemistry between them and they were better off as friends. 

As usual, Severus dreaded the start of classes. Standing in front of teenagers, talking, being perceived--it all felt awful. The start of the autumn 1983 term, though, as he strode in front of his first class of fifth years, his three-inch heeled boots clicking against the stone floor, a thought occurred to him. 

_ It’s a performance.  _


End file.
